He knelt up stealthily, saw no one in his immediate neighbourhood, and commenced to creep on hands and knees. But he was not allowed to go very far, for one of the two dusky figures which he had been following rose at once, and strode back a few paces. There was the loud ring of a ramrod as the man drove in a bullet, and then came the report, the crash of which rang in Steve's ears. Stars flashed in front of his eyes, and the snow over which he was creeping turned to a blood-red hue. He fell all of a heap, and lay there for some few seconds, while the shouts of the combatants rang in his ears. Then he revived a little, staggered to his feet and fell again, this time with a crash which left him senseless. When he came to himself again he was being carried on the shoulders of four Indians, the snow had ceased, and the lights which twinkled in the distance were those of Ticonderoga. Steve was a prisoner. Chapter XIV Steve meets an Old Enemy Steve Mainwaring was a prisoner, and as he realised that fact a thousand misgivings filled his mind. For to be taken by the French and their Indians was not a fate which even the boldest of the British courted. "It may mean torture," he thought. "The French are not always able to control their Indians, and even if they were always capable of doing so, there are the backwoodsmen. We have heard what they are, and the fugitives from our settlements have given us many a tale of their ferocity." No one, in fact, could guess in those rough days what pains were awaiting him if he fell into the hands of the French, and if there had not been sufficient evidence already, there was to be abundance in the near future. But that was hardly required. The thousands of unhappy settlers who had been driven from the forests and the backwoods were full of tales of brutality, of cruelty on the part of French pioneers and Indians alike. And it was a known fact that even if the French were kindly disposed and desirous of treating their prisoners well, they often had to stand aside and look on helplessly while the braves who were their allies wreaked a terrible vengeance on the unhappy people who had been captured. This was the price which New France had too often to pay for the allegiance of these monsters. "I have been taken in fair fight, and am a prisoner of war," Steve said to himself. "That in itself should gain fair treatment for me. But what is the use of worrying? I am cold, and have a severe pain in my side. I suppose I have been wounded. Brothers, have you a blanket with which to cover me? My blood runs cold with the frost and my wound, and in a little while I shall be frozen." He spoke the last aloud, addressing himself to the Indians who carried him, and speaking in the Mohawk tongue. All four instantly came to a halt, there was a grunt from the leading man on the right, and then Steve was gently laid on the ground.